champange reunion

I can talk about myself. It’s easy to talk about myself. Never mind, let’s talk about you. What do you think about life? How goes it with you? Have you decided what the purpose of it all is yet?I asked you back in high school. Have you trudged through enough experience to give me a general idea? I am still asking the question, to anyone and everyone. Butit’s those good old friends, I find, whose answers interest me the most.

I was there with you during all those angsty summer nights, when school was out and we were out of our minds with boredom and depression. Quick, slick, wild nights scorched up sporadically to let us knowexactly how stoic the rest of it all really was. Bonfires shone just bright enough to light thebooze and drugs, inching closer to our fingertips as we leaned over the railing of legality to temp our curiosity and emblazon our stupidity just enough to show what dumb shits we really were, fresh faced and already asking to be slapped.

I was there with you when your parents divorced, when

your dad sniffed out a new family and your mom drove off to drown herself in mill pond. I hung off your arm as you took me to bonfire after bonfire and we made a bet as to how many guys we couldslosh in one night. Yes, yes,I was there. You may not remember me, but

But what are you doing now? What have you decided? What hidden objective was worth tromping through all that mud and fuck? Have you reached the other side of this dung yet? Should I keep my shoes on and close my eyes andexpect to find fulfillment of a delusional promise at the end? Or is this impulsive vulgarity just and only what I’m living for?